Call of the Phoenix
by IWanderingSoul
Summary: Returning home to a country in the midst of war after seven years of absence, Ginny Weasley has come to fight. But the future is threatened by the shadows of the past, and only if she faces what happened back then, can she not only win but survive. HPGW


**Chapter 1**

_Life's a voyage that's homeward bound._

Herman Melville, US novelist & sailor (1819 - 1891)

_She stood in the smallest room of Grimmauld Place, her eyes travelling over her things. She had planned this escape well and she would use the excitement downstairs for her benfit. She didn't cry, no emotion revealed on her face but thruthfully, she was in uproar. It drove her crazy, made her angry that she would have to leave them. Most of all, it made her sad. She looked around the room, taking it in. There was her bed in the furthest corner, and an old, wonky chair next to it. There were no windows, just the old oil lamp on the nightdesk. It was uncomfortable, ugly and yet for quite some time, it had been he clostest thing to home there was. At the same time, it had been a cruel prison where she had been held without bars and yet not been able to move. She reached for her small bag and walked out wthout looking back. Leaving was hard enough as it was. "You have to", she reminded herself. "Otherwise, you'll stay here for far too long." _

A lone woman stood in the small room at the top of the tower. She was young, far too young to be here, in this position. But after all, there was no one else to do this.

Minerva had followed Albus soon after, defending the castle bravely against yet another attack and sacrificing her own life to secure the wards. She was the reason that Hogwarts was now probably the safest place there was for anyone aligned to the light. But all too soon, many had to leave this haven into a world which wanted them dead.

And Filius, logical successor was out there, fighting and showing the world that he had once been a duelling champion. Still, she thought, what kind of place is it where a ninety-year-old scholar needed to battle in the first line of fire?

Even old Horace had left the sanctuary of this place. They needed a potions maker in Saint Mungo's more desperately than the school needed him. After Snape- well, it was better not to think about that.

Pomona wasn't here either, and the woman simply prayed that she was still alive. The herbologist had been captured by Rabastan Lestrange. There was not much hope left for her. Neville had taken her place at first, but not for long. He had turned into an excellent fighter and it would have been stupid to sacrifice his talent this way.

No, Hogwarts was a place for the invalids. Like herself. It was an ugly thought, and once, a long time ago, it had hurt. Not much hurt anymore, and at the same time, everything did. She limped towards the door, her leg trailing behind her

It was time to go downstairs and welcome the students.

She waited for the First Years on the steps of the Entrance Hall. Technically, it would have been Alastor's role, but she preferred to do it herself. Besides, he would only scare them. You want to do everything yourself, don't you, a little voice chorused, but she ignored it. Everything was the least she could do, now that she could not fight out there anymore. She shivered slightly as a cold breath drifted over the castle. She had not heard from the others in over a week. But, tonight, there would be a meeting, and they would be there. They would be. Her gaze trvalled to the see and she watched the boots arrive, the children jump out of them, She smiled at the two sixteen-year-olds who had escorted the First Years here. It would have been more practical to get rid of this tradition, but she had insisted on this one thing. They need something to fight for. A reason. And Hogwarts was a pretty good start. For her, as for many others, it was home. The view, that one moment in the lake where the castle appeared in front of you was something she would never forget. It was a magical moment, and a turning point in their lives. It was something she could give them.

"Thank you, Robert, Samira. Welcome, students, to Hogwarts. I shall escort you in the Great Hall in a moment, and from there, you can take your place. As most of you know, there are no sortings at Hogwarts for the time being. You shall therefore take your places at the Table. At Hogwarts exemplary behaviour shall be expected of you. No matter how desperate the times, this is still a place of education and your conduct reflects upon the school. I am sure that we will only of ever see the best of you. If you will now follow me into the Great Hall."

She walked ahead of them. On this day, thirteen years had passed since her own sorting. In that time, the world and the school had changed more drastically than to ever be expected. There were too few students to sort nowadays.

Twenty this year, though only eighteen of them would be attending. But last year, it had only been twelve. Numbers differed, but the percentage of Muggleborns rose higher and higher. Far too many of the wizarding families, whether old or not, had been killed. She led them towards the long rectangular table which now stood in the Great Hall, turned at a right angle to how the House Tables had once stood. At the one of the head sides of the table she sat, and from there on, the teachers. There really was no need for a Head Table any longer. She stood behind her chair for a moment, her eyes drifting over the numbers.

This year, Hogwarts accounted for ninety-three students and six teachers. She herself, as head- and potions mistress, Alastor as a Defence instructor, Binns for History of Magic, the goblin Ragnarök for Advanced Charms and Transfiguration. Robert Summerfield and Samira Nott taught the first- to third years Charms and Transfiguration. At least they would for this year. They had both had their OWLs last year and their education was considered complete. Blaise Zabini had been the last student to graduate Hogwarts with his NEWTs. And every year, two would-be-sixth-years remained at the castle for a single year to teach. Without that, they would have been nearly unable to keep the school running. "To use the words of the greatest man Hogwarts ever saw: tuck in", she said. There would be a time for her speech later.

Food appeared on the plates. The magic of the castle was, after all, still intact. Nevertheless, it was not the glorious meals she had once seen. Still good, for sure, and more than enough for everybody, but this was no longer a place where food could be wasted. But there was no reason to complain. She shuddered at the thought of what Ron and Harry had eaten in the last days and resolved to ask the house elves for a stew to be brought up later. "So when do I get to have my go with the first-years?"

"Alastor", she chided playfully. He was one of the few who could still make her smile. And they had become friends, based on the connection they shared. They could not fight, where instead caught here while others risked their lives. "I gave them to you right tomorrow morning, but be nice. Some of them are still children."

"They won't be much longer in any case."

"No reason for you to be the one to end it. We get to keep them for five years; you'll have time enough to scare them." Sorrow flickered through their faces. No matter what people said about them, the cold, war-marred headmistress and the ex-Auror, they loved the children they taught, and it hurt painfully to watch them leave into a world where death was far more than an option. She rose from her chair when the meal was finished. "Welcome, or in many cases, welcome back to Hogwarts. I can not tell you how glad I am to see you all here, well and whole. This is a school, a place of learning and study, and we must not forget it, but the war outside cost all of us. Still, we are fighting, and we won't give up. The hope for peace remains, so let us drink tonight: to victory." Glasses were raised, quiet whispers echoed through the far too empty hall. "To victory."

"And to those who try to achieve it, but above that, to those who have sacrificed themselves for our future, our peace, and this school. To the fallen."

"To the fallen." There were tears, discreet and quickly wiped away.

"And now, the prefect shall escort you to your dormitories." They led them away to what had once been the Hufflepuff dormitories. Ravenclaw tower had been destroyed, and Gryffindor was used for the war council. Slytherin, well, it had not been a good option. She stayed in the Great Hall for several minutes more, talking to her colleagues and giving them their schedules. She left quickly then, leaning against the outside wall for a short moment after she was out of sight and reaching for the pain relieving potion she always carried with her. She drank it down in quick gulps and sighed softly in relief. It did not help overly much, but it dulled the ache. Tonight, she should not who weaknesses. She made her way to her quarters and opened the door. She did no scream at the sight before her. Looking back, she would be quite proud of that.

The woman casually leaning against her book shelf had not been seen in seven years. She looked different now, of course. The brilliant mane of hair she had once been known for was cut of into a couple of short wisps, barely longer than chin-length. The girl who had been Gryffindor's pride and princess, together with the man she loved, everything they stood for, was no more. In her place stood a woman, tall and lean, with shortish red hair, a long scar down her face and her eyes hard. But she would have recognised this woman everywhere, anywhere, no matter how she looked. "Ginny", the headmistress breathed.

"Hermione."

"You're back." The situation was awkward, for both of them.

"Yes." She smiled, quite suddenly. "It's good to see you again, Hermione." A moment later, they were hugging, the two women clinging onto each other. It wasn't all that awkward anymore. After all, they had been the best of friends once. "I could kill you, you know. We were so worried. Where were you, Ginny?"

"I never meant to worry you, any of you. But I couldn't exactly avoid it."

"Why did you leave?"

"We all have our fate, our choices to make. Mine was to fight. And now tell me how everyone is, please." She wanted to say more, to tell Ginny just how much she had hurt everyone, to force her to stay this time, but instead she said: "Ron and Harry are coming tonight." An unspoken question: Will you face Harry, or will you run again? "They're fine. Your family is too." They both knew what fine meant.

"I brought them a…present." She laughed, bitter, ironic. "All of them really, all of us." She pulled her wand out, preformed complicated motions, a series, too many to follow. Then, she reached inside the worn black travelling cloak again and pulled out a golden cup. It was smaller than Hermione had expected. Less magnificent. She had never seen it before, and yet she had done so a hundred times. Her hand reached forward and was slapped away a moment later. "Good Godric! Are you stupid?"

She blushed in shame. That had indeed been far too risky. Had she lost her insticts, noe that she no longer an acrive part of the fight on the battlefields?

"Where did you get this, Ginny?"

"I've gotten around. He stored this one in Albania, close to the place where he killed Bertha Jorkins."

"We went there and didn't find anything."

Her shoulders stiffened and she turned her gaze away. "I had some different options." Hermione didn't press the point, though she would not forget it. But now wasn't the time to argue. She hadn't seen her friend in years, and the occasional "I'm fine. Love, Ginny" notes hadn't really made things better.

Harry would be pleased to see her again, but he would be angry as well. Of course, it had been he who had pushed Ginny away, but he had wanted her to be protected and safe. She hadn't obeyed and instead gone her own way. It was something he couldn't easily forgive her, though he himself put his life on the line every single day.

Ginny didn't blanch or flinch, and Hermione admitted that her acting ability- which had always been above average- had improves. Still, she knew her friend well enough to notice that her gaze had flickered for awhile. "We have a meeting in Gryffindor tower with the innermost war council. The only ones who know about these." She gestured towards the cup.

"In Gryffindor tower?"

"The students are all residing in the Hufflepuff dorms." She laughed bitterly. "There aren't enough to sort them. Besides, that was what got us this whole mess. And now, we're using Gryffindor for the council meeting- and the members can stay there if they need to."

"Who else will be there?"

"Alastor, Remus, Tonks and Fleur."

"Fleur?"

"She's a good fighter, and a valuable asset to our sides. Besides, after", Hermione stopped quickly, but it was too late.

"After?"

"Bill. He- was killed."

This time, the emotion was visible on her face as Ginny reached for the countertop to steady herself. Few knew of the relationship she and her oldest brother shared. They had never been particularly close as children, the age difference between them too large. It was only after her first year, when the family had visited Egypt that they had grown closer. She gad learned to rely on the young man who never asked her what had happened and whose looks at her weren't pitying, but full of confidence. He believed in her, he told her, and he was proud of her for fighting. It had helped her more than the gentle assurances and soft smiles of the others. Her knuckles turned white as her fingers scraped over the wood of the countertop. She had seen death, even delivered it herself and she had watched those he loved go of into danger, and some of them not come back. But Bill, he couldn't be dead. He had been a constant in her life, the big, older brother and the talented Curse-Breaker. She had never doubted he could take care of himself, and in turn, he had never doubted her.

"No", she whispered. "No, no, no."

"Oh, Ginny." Hermione moved closer, laying a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder. She was almost glad for the state of shock her friend was in- it would keep her from asking how Bill had died. That was not something she wanted to talk about, now or ever. Minutes of quiet tears passed as both women mourned their friend and brother. Finally, Ginny straightened herself. "I didn't know." She should have found out. "Thank you for telling me", she said, her wand removing the signs of her tears from her face.

A soft voice interrupted them. "Are we going?"

Both women turned to look at the young boy walking along the corridor. He was about six years old, Ginny estimated, with brown hair and wearing a bright blue pyjama.

"You have a son?" Ginny gasped.

Hermione's soft laughter echoed through the room. "No. Ted, meet your aunt Ginny. This is Ted, Remus' and Tonks' son."

"'ello, aunt Ginny", he said. She couldn't help but smile at the boy. Now that she knew of the relation, she could see how similar his face was too Remus', though there was an innocence in his face his father's didn't have.

Hermione gazed at the clock on the wall before turning back to the young boy. "Yes, Ted, we're going now."

The smile brightened his face as he moved forwards, his eyes resting on Ginny. "You're my aunt Ginny?"

"I guess I am."

"Where were you?"

"Well, at quite a lot of places."

"I've seen pictures of you, but you look different."

"I'm sure you look different now than you look on your old pictures."

He smiled at her. "I do. I'm all tiny of the old pictures. Gramma has pictures of you, loads of them. And Aunt Mione has some, too." He pointed to the wall where several pictures hung, a group photograph of the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione taken at Bill and Fleur's wedding, a shot of the golden trio and one of all four of them, laughing during one of the days in Ginny's fifth year. As she stared at the picture, photo-Ginny turned around to press a kiss against Harry's lips.

"We do need to leave", Hermione said quickly and together, the three of them walked towards Gryffindor tower, Ginny once again carrying the cup she had brought inside her cloak. Ted was merry and happy, looking forwards to seeing his parents. He stormed into their arms as soon as they entered the room. Hermione moved forwards behind him and it was only when she moved away from the portrait hole that Ginny was revealed to the others. They were war veterans, powerful magicians all of them and not easy to shake. Still, all of them but Tonks who was still grinning at her son sitting in her lap were staring at her. The Auror only looked up when the room went silent and she was the one who spoke. "Ginny?!" Half question, half statement. Her voice broke the tension that had been lying over the room, and a moment later, her brother was standing in front of her. "Is it really you, Gin?"

"Don't call me that."

His wand was pointed at her as he smiled quite suddenly and lowered it. "Only you would say that." But still, there was doubt in his eyes. He turned halfway around to look at Hermione. "Did you question her?" She shook her head and on the other side of the room, Mad-Eye Moody cursed violently. "She could be anyone. Anyone at all."

She saw the way wands were being pulled discreetly, held ready. These were soldiers, trained and armed. They had been that way when she left, but now, it was more visible, more cruel, more vindictive and quite simply more there. The presence taht invaded her mind was strong and cold, straight-forward and determined. Mad-Eye Moddy did not care for deception, but simply used force of will to break down her outer Occlumency walls. It took her several moments to calm down enough to lower the other ones. She would not resist him. Ginny did not know how long it lasted or when he disappeared and the pain began to ebb away. It could not have been longer than several seconds. "It's her", the old Auror felt strong hands steady her.

Ron grinned at her and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her tightly. She pulled back and looked at him. He wasn't the boy he'd been when she'd left, innocent, a git, and in love with Hermione. He was older in more than just years, but then, she supposed she was as well. He grinned at her again, and she saw the boy he'd once been. "It's good to have you back, sis."

Remus entangled himself from his wife and son and turned to greet her as well. "Welcome back, Ginny." His voice was cold and she could see that he had not forgiven her for disappearing when she was needed most. "Hello, Remus." She spoke not a shade warmer. Fleur approached her next and she was surprised to see that there was a true smile on the other woman' face. "Hello", she said. Ginny took the other woman's hand and saw the pale golden ring, engraved with Egyptian hieroglyphs still on the blonde's finger.

"I'm very sorry about Bill", she said, so quietly that only Fleur could hear. "I just heard…"

Fleur stared at her in surprise before her lips gain fell into that graceful smile. "Thank you, Ginny. This means a lot to me." And it did, because though they had never gotten on, Ginny had acknowledged Fleur's as Bill's wife for the first time- four years after she had been widowed.

Harry did not speak to her, but remained in the back of the room while she was near the Entrance Hall, talking to Fleur and Tonks. The Metamorphagus had greeted her friendly, but with caution. Still, Tonks was so happy it was hard to be angry at Ginny. These meetings where she could se both her husband and son were rare and few between. She was the Head Auror of the Ministry, ascending into the position after Shacklebolt had fallen, and Remus was away for the Order most of the time, still spying on the werewolves.

Three years ago, she had made this choice to give up her son for the cause and everything she was fighting for, to leave him in Hermione's capable hands. Still, it had never stopped hurting like hell and she wished she could see them, both of them, more often. She pulled Teddy close, running a hand through his hair which turned bright blue. He had not fully inherited her talents, only the ability to change hair and eye colour. She was not sad about it- more often than not, being able to change her looks had brought her nothing but pain, although it was useful in this war. He smiled up at her. "Mamma."

She pulled him close, holding him tight to her and only relaxing when she felt Remus' arm wrap around her from behind. They were a family, no matter what Voldemort or the war asked of them.

She smiled down at her son. "How've you been, Ted?"

It was an hour later when Teddy fell asleep on his mother's lap. After that, the atmosphere in the room changed quickly. Fleur and Ginny sat down closer to the fireplace, next to Tonks and Remus and when Alastor Moody pushed open the portrait hole and entered the room, the others sat down as well. It was darker now, several of the candles had already burned low and it was mainly the bright shine of the fire which lit the room.

"So you're back, girl", Moody growled at her.

She refused to feel like a ten-year-old who'd behaved badly. "Seems that way", she said, straightening herself to look him in the eye.

"So, how do we know it's really you and not some intruder?"

"You don't. All I can give you is this." She turned away from him and looked at Harry for the first time that evening. He looked older as well, she noted. He had grown taller and she saw the lines in his face. His skin was tanned- fighting was not an indoor activity and his eyes were staring at her intensely. She replied his gaze coldly as she reached inside her cloak and pulled out the golden cup, careful not to touch it. She placed it down on the table in front of Harry, her gaze never wavering.

There were several seconds of silence before the room erupted in noise. "How did you-?" "Where was-?" "-this it?" "-from?"

She waited until there was quiet again before she spoke. "It's what you think it is." She shrugged slightly. "It was in Albania." After that she didn't speak anymore, just shaking her head at the questions.

They tried their best to get answers out of her, but she didn't give it to them. Her eyes rested on the young man at the other side of the table. His eyes were still fixed on the cup, and there was an evil fury in them. It had been the right choice to bring it back, she decided. No matter how much pain it caused her, it would have been presumptuous to destroy this horcrux herself. They all had a role in this war, and this was his. He was their saviour, and he would destroy the cup. She had always put more faith in the ancient magic than most others, accepting the laws magic dictated easily. There was no logical explanation for why seven was such a powerful number, and there was none for why she would have failed in the destruction of this object, but she had grown up with these laws, and she could not have broken them.

Finally, the questions stopped about the Horcrux and Ron was the one to ask her if she would stay. "For some time", she said. "After that, we'll see." It was an imprecise answer if there had ever been one.

Several awkward moments followed until Fleur cleared her throat delicately. "No matter how important this", she flicked a hand towards the table "is, we need to talk about some other things as well."

"She's not staying for that", Moody said. "It could be a trap. We don't know for sure if this cup is the real thing."

"It is." Harry's voice was calm and cool, though slightly raspy.

**AN: Reviews are replied to and appreciated.**


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